


Five Plus One

by penny



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:06:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny/pseuds/penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times fic set pregame with spoilers for Balthier's backstory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Plus One

The Bunansa boy's admission to the Akademy is entirely his father's doing, but there is no denying his skill. It makes Drace wish they were using real weapons, not the Akademy's wooden practice swords. The thud of wood on wood is, unfortunately, no match for the sound and feel of steel.

The instructor stands off to the side with the rest of the class, watching their match with sharp eyes. "Notice how Her Honor deflects Cadet Bunansa's blows with minimal movements. She wastes nothing." His evaluations normally include cutting critiques of the cadet's form, but Cadet Bunansa's leaves little room for complaint. He indulges in the occasional flourish, but nothing beyond what Akademy instructors allow.

Bunansa presses another attack. "You're generous, Your Honor," he murmurs, putting nearly all of his weight behind his practice sword, so he is nearly flush against her armor. "Not pressing your own attack."

"Advance to a real sword, and I will give you a real lesson." She shifts and thrusts her hip to throw him off balance, bringing the tip of her practice sword against his neck. The intensity in his gaze, the determination, makes her bow honest, not an expected formality. "Until then, Cadet."

* * *

Cadet Bunansa's instructor is one of Drace's advocates, so she repays his support by visiting the Akademy more than a Judge Magister should. Her position as Lord Larsa's protector keeps her in the Imperial City and has her detractors dismissing her as a nursemaid. Her frequent visits to the Akademy only fuel their sneering dismissal, but she enjoys showing the cadets what they might become, and spending less time at the Akademy would not improve her standing with those set against her.

Besides, she is interested in what the Bunansa boy might become. Already there is talk of advancing him a full year, an honor based on his reputation, not his father's.

It makes him arrogant. He swaggers up to her at the end of one of her visits. "Should I be flattered that you've taken such an interest in my class's instruction, Your Honor?"

His boldness should not be so endearing, but it suits him. "I suspect you will be no matter my reply, but since you are curious, I am here at your instructor's request."

"And here I was hoping you were hoping to give me that _real_ lesson."

She allows her chuckle. "When you've earned it, Cadet."

* * *

It will almost be a shame to put Bunansa in Judge's armor. He has grown into a lithe young man, his motions quick and graceful, almost feline. Imperial armor will slow him down, though he will adjust to the weight with practice, and there is also Haste.

Drace can match his speed, and she has greater stamina. Already, he is tired, sweat trailing down his neck, arms trembling. She is holding back -- he is still an Akademy Cadet -- but since this is the _real_ lesson she promised him three years ago, she is giving more, strictly speaking, than she should.

"Your form has improved," she says when they've broken apart. Conversation will give him a short moment to catch his breath.

He has enough strength for a somewhat flip salute. "High praise," he pants, "Your Honor."

The only audience for this match is his instructor. Drace frowns, though he cannot see her expression behind her helm. He has no peers to impress, and she is not here for flirtation. She had hoped he would show the maturity to not squander this lesson.

"Perhaps too high." Her sword does not tremble as she raises it in challenge. "Come at me, Cadet."

* * *

Bunansa becomes Judge Ffamran a scant few days into his sixteenth year. The appointment, like his admission into the Akademy, comes at his father's insistence -- the Empire will do much to keep Cidolfus Demen Bunansa happy -- but unlike his admission into the Akademy, it also depends upon his own skill. Archadia demands much of its people.

And House Solidor demands much of its Judges. It is tradition for the Judge Magisters to test the new Judges, and Drace draws the lot when Bunansa and three others are promoted. Those three are acceptable; Ffamran is exemplary.

He matches her blow for blow and is clever with his spells. There is a moment when Drace fears his Stop will take hold, but the protections magicked into her armor hold. She quickly casts Shell for an added layer of protection.

She is victorious, though it is a close match. He is gracious in his defeat, and there is no arrogant showmanship to his bow when they part. "You are always instructive, Your Honor. I hope you'll honor me with another match."

"Is that flattery, Judge Ffamran, or honesty?"

"Why choose?"

Why choose indeed? He will go far. She should serve as his advocate.

* * *

There are rumors that Cidolfus Demen Bunansa lost a part of himself on his expedition to the Jagd Difohr. Judge Ffamran's performance falters in the weeks following the doctor's return, so Drace is inclined to believe them.

She spars with Ffamran on occasion. Neither of them seek to make their matches a precursor to more. Ffamran flirts, but it is the sort that is expected of a man of his station, harmless and easily deflected.

"Perhaps we should resume this match when you are less distracted," she says when she has knocked him off balance for the third time.

He sheathes his sword and bows, both actions stiff and formal. "Yes. You are, as always, most generous, Your Honor."

She has set boundaries for herself. She can be Ffamran's advocate, but she cannot be his friend, perhaps not even if he achieves the rank of Judge Magister. Still, she removes her helm to address him as...something. "I would hate to see you do something foolish, Judge Ffamran. Archadia needs men like you."

"Does she?" There is an edge to his tone she should acknowledge. Instead, she lets him walk away.

It is a mistake, but not one she regrets.

* * *

Now that Lord Larsa is older, nearly a man by his father's standards, Drace has more opportunity to leave Archades. She eagerly accepts orders to inspect the Lhusu Mines in Bhujerba, and though she finds Marquis Ondore's forced politeness exasperating -- he could at least _try_ not to arouse suspicion about his true loyalties -- she does enjoy Bhujerba itself. It is a beautiful city with a breathtaking a view. Her stay is too short for her liking, but such is the nature of these inspections.

She is leading her squad back to their ship when she sees Ffamran. He is emerging from the Aerodrome with a Viera at his side, and she shifts to block their view of Ffamran, a smooth motion Drace only notices because she is still deciding if the young man _is_ really Ffamran. He is the right age, the right height, the right build, but his cheekbones are more angular, and he holds himself differently.

"Your Honor, is that --"

She cuts off the captain. "We've no time." Indeed, their orders to return at once are explicit and leave little room for delay. Perhaps she should restrain the pair, but she cannot bring herself to issue the order.


End file.
